


First of His Name

by House_Belaerys (House_Blackfyre)



Series: Blackfyre Short Stories [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, F/M, Forbidden Love, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Incest, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, King Jon Snow, Light Dom/sub, Mistress Daenerys, Oral Sex, PWP, Period-Typical Underage, Politics, Rough Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-22 10:00:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19665145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/House_Blackfyre/pseuds/House_Belaerys
Summary: He could still hear the sounds of revelry outside the thick iron-banded door. Hundreds upon hundreds of lords from all the Seven Kingdoms, their ladies, their families, vassals and servants who traveled the vast distances of the realm to watch him wed his betrothed. However, the woman on her knees before him was not his soon to be wife.





	First of His Name

**Foreword**

_The Targaryens had thought the rebellion ended when Robert Baratheon fell to Barristan the Bold’s blade at the Battle of Stoney Sept. However, the death of the figurehead of the rebellion only added further fuel to the flames raging in rebel hearts. The rebel lords led by the triumvirate of Eddard Stark of Winterfell, Hoster Tully of Riverrun and Jon Arryn of the Eyrie would rally their forces and harass the Targaryen forces at every opportunity, defeating every host before they could consolidate into a true challenge._

_This all changed when Prince Rhaegar Targaryen remerged. With him came ten thousand spears of Dorne. The arrival of the Prince gave the Targaryen forces a powerful figure to rally around. Forty thousand souls in total would answer his call to arms. Rhaegar the Dragon they called him and for good reason._

_In one great battle, the two hosts would meet. The battle to decide the soul of a kingdom._

**Jonothor Targaryen (Jon Snow)**

He could still hear the sounds of revelry outside the thick iron-banded door. Hundreds upon hundreds of lords from all the Seven Kingdoms, their ladies, their families, vassals and servants who traveled the vast distances of the realm to watch him wed his betrothed, Myrcella Hightower. However, the woman on her knees before him was not his soon to be wife. 

A hard suck to the head of his cock made his knees buckle. Jon gasped and leaned his head against the wall of the storage closet. A dainty hand gripped the base of his cock firmly. “Look at me,” She ordered.

Daenerys could wear a potato sack and still look breathtaking. Yet with her silver-gold hair done in an elaborate braid and the crimson and black dress that bared her shoulders and a considerable portion of her bosom, she was a true goddess in the flesh. “I want you to watch me drain your balls before you marry your wife.”

His breath hitched. She swiped her tongue against his slit, swallowing the thick bead of precum that leaked from him. Her smile was playful, but her violet eyes held that fire he loved. Nails bit into his buttocks and she swallowed half of him in one wet plunge.

Jon bucked involuntarily. Daenerys made a sound of agreement and bobbed her head rapidly. “Dany,” He cried out but instead of finishing him then and there his aunt backed off. She kissed his sides of his wet shaft. Stroking him with one hand while keeping a firm grip at his base to prevent his cum from surging forward. “Fuck, you’re cruel.”

Her smile was devious. She rolled his sack in hand. “You love it,” she replied. He did.

“I’m sorry Dany.” He brushed the strands of her hair away from her cheeks. She shook her head ruefully.

“You have told me that many times.” Though her words said his apology was unnecessary, her eyes were sharp. He knew his love was jealous. Rightfully so. If this marriage did not have the fate of war and entire kingdom resting upon it then Jon would gladly break the betrothal and marry Daenerys. Yet his half-brother had already abandoned his duty, running off with his beautiful paramour, a red priestess from Asshai, and his handsome squire, Tyrek Lannister, instead of wedding Margaery Tyrell as his mother had arranged.

“You know I love you...” Jon began. He reached down stroke her perfect cheek. The words were no mere platitude. Daenerys was born exactly nine months after him. She had cemented her status as the love of his life before he even knew what the word love meant. They were made for each other, that was much clear. Stories of Jaehaerys and Alysanne fueled their hopes that they would one day wed. Yet their ancestors had dragons to bind the kingdoms to their will. Something both he and Dany lacked.

Her answering smile was almost sad. “Quiet you, I don’t want to cry.”

“Sorry,” Jon muttered. It seemed apologizing was all he could do of late. At seventeen years old he was a year past the age of majority. A king who had could now wield the full extent of his power without the need of the Council of Regents’ approval. Yet, he still lacked the ability to wed the woman he loved. These last few months were the first time in his life that he had ever cursed his brother’s name in such frequency and even more so his father’s for it seemed his entire life would now be spent paying for their mistakes. _Grandfather’s as well._ Jon reminded himself.

Daenerys’ lips pressing against his cock head woke him from his musings. Playful intent filled those deep purple orbs of hers once again. “You’re brooding again. Try not to do so in your official portrait or they may label you, Jonothor the Unhappy.”

Jon’s response was garbled in a hiss when her lips enveloped him once again. The wet heat of her mouth was a pleasure only eclipsed by the flutter of her folds around him and the vice-like tightness of her bottom. While Aegon grew up under the watchful eye of his mother and the regents, Jon grew alongside Daenerys on the remote island of Dragonstone. Their family’s ancestral fortress afforded them a certain privacy, nooks, and crannies hidden between the many thousands of gargoyles and the almost forgotten rooms of several keeps allowed him to explore Daenerys in every way a man could a woman.

“I should have put a baby in your belly,” Jon told her. Daenerys hummed around his cock in question. Briefly, her eyes met his, heavy-lidded before returning to her task. Her pace was more leisurely than before but no less pleasurable. He felt her tongue caress the veins on the underside of his cock while her hand gripped his base. Her mouth bobbed around him, taking him deeper with each plunge.

The way Daenerys sucked him could only be described as worshipping. One hand played with his sack while the other wrapped around his hip to knead his ass cheeks. Occasionally her grip would tighten to pull him deeper into her mouth. He felt her swallow his cock and let out a gasp as he slid into her throat. Both her hands were on Jon’s ass now, guiding him… no urging him deeper into her gullet.

His hips bucked involuntarily, and a moan of delight was Daenerys’ answer. Giving her what she wanted, he gripped her hair and fucked her beautiful face. Daenerys reveled in the rough treatment.

“Good girl,” he told her. An appreciative whine escaped her lips. Jon pulled his hips back before snapping them forward. A wet squelch sounded throughout the small servant’s room. He hoped his Kingsguard kept others away from near the door for the bare stone walls would do little to muffle sound. It would not make a good impression on his good-family if they learned what activities he engaged in on the morning of his wedding. Aware of the danger and disrespect but unable to stop himself, Jon surged into Daenerys’ mouth and let loose his seed.

Six heavy blasts left his cock with enough force to make his knees buckle. Daenerys’ hands on his muscled abdomen kept him pinned to the wall with her mouth still affixed to his cock. She drank his seed with an almost greedy enthusiasm, suckling from him until the sensations became too intense and he had to force her away.

Daenerys smiled sweetly, revealing a perfect set of white teeth. A few strands of her silver-gold hair had become unbound from her braid but the slightly less than perfectly neat appearance only added to her beauty. Jon pulled her to her feet and claimed her lips in a heated kiss. There was the slightest taste of his spend but his love’s mouth still tasted delightful.

“We don’t have time,” Daenerys scolded when he moved to drop to his knees to return the favor. Still, Jon’s hand cupped her mound through her dress, drawing a whimper.

“It seems you don’t need much,” Jon countered with a grin. The words drew a slight flush from his aunt. _She’s so beautiful._ The more his hands roamed over her body the greater his desire became. “I’ll finish you quickly.”

“And how will you explain the smell of cunt on your face when your wife leans in for your first kiss?” Daenerys questioned with a raised brow.

Jon smiled sheepishly. He had not thought of that. Still, despite all his love’s protest she did nothing to resist his roaming hands cupping her breasts. They had grown some these past few months, a handful now (granted his hands were rather large) and as perfect as the rest of her. Daenerys was lean and slender. Her body blessed by impeccable lineage and shaped by activity. While she was short, Daenerys was almost all leg. Sculpted calves connected to shapely thighs and a high rounded bottom. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to have those thighs wrapped around his head. His cock pressed through the thin fabric of her dress to split her bottom. _Opinion changed, there is one thing I want more._

He wrapped an arm around her flat belly and guided her deeper into the room. Daenerys voiced an only obligatory protest. Clearly, she was as eager as he. They did not move very far. The room they were in was more of a closet, piled high with broken furniture and other junk. He kissed Dany deeply before turning her around so that she leaned on her hands against a dusty table. “The king wants to fuck his aunt from behind,” Daenerys teased. “What should I do?”

“You know you want it too,” Jon answered. He laid a hand on the small of her back to bend her over further. It was too dusty in this room to take off Daenerys’ dress so instead, he bunched the fabric about her waist while pushing her brief smallclothes to her knees. The smell of her arousal reached his nose, so tantalizing that he nearly buried his face between her cheeks to drink from the source. “Widen your legs,” He ordered. She obeyed.

The sight of his love bent over before him, dressed bunched about her waist, back arched and luscious ass revealed to him would stick with Jon for the rest of his days. Her pale cheeks were round and firm. Even her rosebud was pretty, pink and unblemished. It winked when his thumb swiped over it. He didn’t remove his thumb immediately. The thought of his cock sliding into her tight and forbidden hole was too tantalizing a thought to dismiss.

He split her nether lips with his cock head, drawing a whimper. A thrust wet his cock with her juices while brushing the head against her clit. Tapping her rosebud with his thumb, Jon asked, “Where do you want my cock?”

Daenerys’ breath hitched. In a small voice, she said, “You did not bring any oil.”

In answer, Jon contorted his body to fumble with his pants that lay around his ankles. He held up the small vial of olive oil for Daenerys’ inspection.

She huffed. “You would.” Her butt wiggled invitingly. “You’re the king, the choice is yours.”

Jon grinned. Slowly he eased his cock into her pussy. “I think I’ll have both.” Her answering giggle morphed into a gasp when he sank deeper inside of her. Her walls clung to him; the heat and tightness was an intense and incredible feeling. Daenerys’ gasp made the experience all the better. His hips met her cheeks; his cock buried to the balls.

Dany flicked her hair over her shoulder and glanced back at him. She rolled her hips, taking more of his cock. Her violet eyes filled with challenge. “Fuck me, my King,” Daenerys goaded.

Jon set the vial aside. He gripped her hips and answered her grinding with quick, deep strokes. The silk of her dress brushed his wrists, threatening to cover her luscious backside. Growing vexed with the garment, Jon pushed the dress off over her shoulders. Daenerys was too far in the depths of her pleasure to protest. Instead, she obeyed and lifted her arms above her head to remove the dress entirely. He took the time to step out of his pants. They were both nude save for their shoes. Her heeled soles scrapped the stone as he fucked her harder from behind.

The arch of her spine, the way her muscles moved beneath her soft pale skin, the sound of his hips slapping against her bottom accompanied by the wet squelch of their juices was nearly enough to make him spill. Daenerys’ muffled moans as she bit her lip only drove Jon to fuck her harder. “Play with yourself,” He ordered. His voice harsh with lust.

A moment later her dainty fingers worked her clit while the tips brushed his swinging sack. The telling clench of her cunt and the way her body shivered told him of her climax. Jon squeezed the muscles behind his cock to hold off on his own.

A cry left his lover’s lips as he slowed his thrusts to maximize her climax. When she grew still, he kissed her shoulder. “I think I’ll have your arse now.”

Daenerys’ smile warmed his heart. “I want to watch.” Those words drew a groan.

Carefully he turned her around and set her on the table. They waited with bated breath to see if it would hold her weight. When it did, Daenerys smirked and leaned back on her elbows while spreading her legs. All words left him at the sight of her weeping cunt, lips splayed and reddened from their recent fuck. Hastily Jon grabbed the vial of oil. He spread a liberal amount of oil on his pointer finger and middle finger. Daenerys grabbed the vial from his hand and poured oil directly on his cock. His hips stuttered as she stroked him.

Stepping forward, Jon eased her back onto her elbows and dropped to his knees before her. Pulling her by her ankles, he stopped when her bottom was at the edge of the desk. Unable to help himself at such a tantalizing feast, Jon drank from her cunt.

“Jon!” Daenerys scolded. 

He held a thigh open with one hand while teasing her clit with his tongue. “I’ll wash my face after,” he told her when her thighs still threatened to close around his head. She whimpered when he drew a shape across her clit. With her distracted, Jon eased a finger into her bottom. If her cunt was hot, then her bottom was a boiling cauldron. The first time they had done this Daenerys shied at a finger, now she accepted his digit with ease. It was early in the morning and Daenerys kept herself clean and prepared for him so there was little worry of a mess.

“More,” She demanded. He added a second, drawing a whimper. Sucking her clit erased any discomfort. Scissoring her butt and laving her core with his tongue brought Daenerys to climax quickly and violently. She shook around his fingers and beneath his tongue, her hand planted in his hair holding him in place with a surprisingly strong grip. Jon drank from her flood of juices as he were a man dying of thirst. The delicious tang was enough to send him into a fit of madness.

Rising from his knees with a triumphant smile, his face slick with her juices, Jon grabbed her ankle and pressed her leg back into her chest. Daenerys’ considerable flexibility was another reason among a long list of reasons as to why he loved her. The action bared her rosebud to his eyes. He gripped his cock by the base and pressed the head against his target. Her crinkled flesh yielded to his gentle thrust. Inch by inch he sank into her until once again he was buried to his balls.

Her bowels welcomed his cock like an old friend. When he pulled back for an outstroke her flesh pulled on his cock, threatening to suck him back in. Daenerys’ oil-slicked fingers teased her clit. She worried her full pink lip between her teeth. More silver-gold hairs slipped from her braid. The well-groomed hair above her cunt was a shade lighter than the ones on her head. More silver than blonde.

“Conquer me, my king,” Daenerys whispered. He could see the love in her eyes.

Jon granted her request. The table shifted beneath them; its wooden legs scraped the stone floor. Their sex was entirely too loud for any attempt at secrecy. Such thoughts of the necessity of discretion were pushed to the back of his mind. The pleasure was too intense for rational thought. He folded Daenerys nearly in half, fucking her arse with deep almost brutal thrusts. First, her legs widened then her ankles locked behind his back. She clutched his arm and then pulled him down over her to claim his lips in a heated kiss.

Daenerys did not need to speak words to lay claim over him. She bit his throat, left deep welts on his back from her long nails and accepted his seed flooding into her bowels. Jon’s cry of climax was swallowed by her lips. Then their kiss turned tender as the heat of their lust cooled.

“I love you,” Jon whispered for what had to have been the thousandth time that day. They had broken their fast in the privacy of his chambers. An event routine enough that it would not draw suspicion.

Daenerys smiled warmly. “I love you too.” She pushed him away when he tried kissing her again. A feeling of hurt bloomed in his chest. “We’ve been here too long, and we were too loud. Not to mention the mess we made. It will be a wonder if we have not started a war.”

Jon’s flaccid clock slipped from her arse, accompanied by a rush of his seed. Daenerys fumbled with her small clothes, slipping them up her legs and against her mound before his spend could drip everywhere. “I need to change these and likely my dress. I swear you are insatiable.”

He grinned down at her. “As I recall you were the one who pulled me in here to have your way with me.”

Daenerys flushed and smiled sheepishly. “A girl cannot have her man forget her. Not when he is supposed to wed another.”

Jon frowned. He embraced Daenerys fiercely. “I’ve loved you since the day I met you.”

Daenerys laughed softly. “We were babies when we met.”

He squeezed her bottom. “Exactly.” Tilting her head to kiss her lips he said, “Nothing has changed.”

Her eyes were pensive. “Everything has changed, or someday it will. She’ll bare you trueborn children and you are too good of a man to mistreat her. I fear the day you’ll forget me.”

“I could never,” He tried to assure her. Still, as they dressed Jon could tell Daenerys’ worry had not abated. _What could I do to assure her?_ If taking her as a wife were an option to him then he would do so in a heartbeat. Yet he knew he lacked the power and favorable position to test the faith. Westeros was far from unified, even if the wars had stopped and the lords of the realm had sworn their fealty to him only months prior. His uncles Daeron and Viserys would certainly seize on such a chance to press Daeron’s claim to the throne. With Aegon’s disappearance, Dorne would certainly follow, the marriage between his eldest uncle and Princess Arianne of House Nymeros-Martell all but assured it. _He loves to remind anyone near that he is Targaryen on both sides._ It did not help that the last act of Aerys had been to disinherit Rhaegar’s line, Jon included. His half-sister Rhaenys was too loyal to Aegon to ever allow him to be usurped. Growing apart from her there was a considerable distance between Jon and his half-sister; a relation that her mother was fond of reminding Jon of. Her loyalty to him could not be for certain. Especially not with her marriage to Viserys. _And there are those that say some in Dorne wish for the crown to follow the style of Dornish inheritance._

The thoughts weighed heavily on his mind. He had been king for three months and already a potential war loomed on the horizon. Myrcella was the daughter of two families powerful to tie the realm further together. _Lannister gold and Hightower wealth. You’re a lucky man Jon._ Robb had once told him. His cousin’s face came with a surge of guilt.

“You’re brooding again.” Daenerys tapped his face, bringing him back to the present. “Today should be a day of happiness for you. Don’t scare your bride away with those intense looks of yours. Ghost is already intimidating enough.”

Jon smiled at the mention of his direwolf. He reached out with his mind for his companion and found the wolf had already returned from the hunt with its siblings, belly full of fresh meat and blood. “As you command my love.” He scanned her form. She was as beautiful as always, even more so with cheeks flushed from exertion, braided hair in slight disarray and her dress wrinkled. “You look amazing.”

Daenerys’ expressive eyebrows pinched together. “I need to change or there will be uncomfortable questions we both can’t answer.” Her hands reached up to fix the buttons on his tunic. “Go before the Kingsguards go mad deflecting questions concerning the whereabouts of the king.”

He nodded. “I’ll have one of them escort you to your rooms.”

As he exited the door Daenerys called out to him, “Do not forget to wash your face. And your hands!”

Grey eyes met his. The expression his uncle bore was stern. As a child, such a look would have moved him to compliance. As the king, he knew that despite his uncle’s consternation, the man was completely loyal to him. Benjen Stark had wanted to be a man of the Night’s Watch but with a nephew next in line for the throne, he had donned a white cloak instead of black.

“Thank you, uncle,” Jon said as he handed him Dark Sister. The rubied hilted, Valyrian steel sword was sheathed in a beautiful sleeve of weirwood. He wrapped the sword belt around his waist and felt whole again. It was the greatest gift anyone had ever given him, save for his grandmother with the birth of Daenerys. Granted to him by their uncle on his and Daenerys’ first visit North and to the Wall. Maester Aemon had told him, “This sword has been waiting for you, young prince.” 

Benjen nodded. He walked at pace with Jon. They were on the northern end of the castle; whose upper rooms overlooked the Blackwater. Even with all the activity, it was still sparse on this end of the castle. “You two are being too reckless. Everyone has been asking for your whereabouts and I am sure some have not failed to notice Daenerys absence.”

“I know uncle, but the hour is still early. I can chalk up my absence to cold feet or nerves. After all, I am to be married. I am sure it happens to many grooms on their big day.” Lies were becoming easier the more he spent in this snakepit. Jon was not fond of them, but he was not so naïve as to expect absolute honesty in a place that favored the careful management of the truth.

They soon met Ser Oswell who stood at the end of the Hall. He smirked and shook his head, “Well at least you look happy now. I am sure your wife and her family will appreciate that you found a smile between the princess’s legs.”

There were no secrets between a King and the Kingsguard. Aegon must have utilized their silences often, though his affinity for whores, the daughters of minor lords, and pretty men was known from Dorne to the Wall. _The Red Viper had eight daughters and a spiritual son._ Many joked. Aegon’s skill with a spear was nearly as legendary as his sexual appetites. Jon’s illicit romance with Daenerys was likely more dangerous than the sum of Aegon’s secrets.

Benjen scowled “Keep your jokes to yourself, Oswell. The last we need is for Tywin Lannister to hear them.” Under his breath, he added, “Or my nephew.”

Jon clenched his fist. “Ser Oswell, stay here and wait for my aunt. When she emerges escort her back to the holdfast, make sure none delay her.” His dark smirk did not abate but he nodded.

Jon walked with Benjen. As a boy, he had struggled to keep up with his uncle’s long strides, but they were now of height with each other. A recent growth spurt put him an inch above six feet. They moved quickly through the halls. He bore what Daenerys labeled his ‘king face’ and those that saw him quickly bowed and parted without interruption.

“I know you are aware of the sacrifices Ned has made for you. And you are smart enough to know what he will ask once the time is appropriate.”

Jon flexed his sword hand. His uncle Ned was one of the forces that held the realm together. Certainly, the force as to why Jon had been positioned to claim the throne. Driven by reckless love his parents had wed on the Isle of Faces, a fulfillment of the Pact of Ice and Fire or so his dying father had whispered into his uncle’s ear. Such a union was met with skepticism by most of the south who worshiped the Seven. A combination of three kingdoms in alliance behind his uncle quieted those whispers. The last High Septon had blessed the union and declared him trueborn, second in line for the throne as the beloved Prince’s Rhaegar’s second son.

Now his uncle sought a Targaryen princess for his son and heir. Save for his wayward brother, Daenerys was the last dragon to remain unwed. The most beautiful women in the realm, a maiden they assumed and the prized bride of any man who could be so fortunate. Uncle Ned was not powerful enough to arrange a betrothal prior to Jon’s ascension to the Throne, Daenerys had several suitors from powerful families: Harrold Arryn, formally recognized as Jon Arryn’s heir immediately after the discovery of his wife cuckoldry and plan to poison him (a plan she implicated her lover, Petyr Baelish as the mastermind of), Joffrey Hightower (the brother of Jon’s betrothed), Prince Quentyn Martell, both Willas Tyrell and his brother Garlan, Edric Baratheon son of Stannis Baratheon, Edmure Tully, and last but not least Robb Stark. Jon’s blessing would seal the union without causing undue offense to the other suitors and their families. It would also do much to heal the rift caused between him and his uncle’s wife.

He and Daenerys had spent more than a year in the North, treating with his Stark family and learning of the lands that his mother had called home. That was back when Jon was only the spare. While Robb had fallen for Daenerys’ charm, Lady Catelyn had sought to engineer a marriage between Jon and Sansa. Jon had thought the marriage was purely for political reasons, but his refusal had broken the heart of his young cousin and more troublingly hardened Uncle Ned’s heart against him. 

“I am well aware of my uncle’s proven loyalty.” His tone conveyed words left unsaid. _Now is not the time._ Jon was well aware of his uncle’s ambition. The Starks had been long denied the fulfillment of an agreement struck during the Dance of Dragons. It was part of the reason why his mother had been betrothed to Robert Baratheon in the first place. Save for perhaps House Velaryon, the Baratheons bore the highest count of Targaryen blood outside of the royal family. He was also well aware of Robb’s affection for Daenerys. While he had become fast friends with his cousin in their visit to the North, it had been difficult not to punch his friend in the face for the way he stared at her.

“Robb is a good man,” Benjen said quietly. Clearly, he was in favor of such a union. Part of a Kingsguard’s vow was keeping his king’s secrets. Withholding such information from his own family would certainly strain a man as honorable as Jon’s uncle.

“He is,” Jon answered. “Uncle Ned will have his answer when he puts it to question. Not before.” Yet, Jon already knew his answer. Daenerys was more than his lover. She was his other half. They completed each other in more ways than one. And the North was far. Too far. It would be years before he could see Daenerys again if he gave her away. Such a thought was almost enraging. _Daenerys is mine. Mine to hold. Mine to kiss. Mine to breed._ It was almost a madness in him. He might need to wed to save the realm from war, but he would never let Daenerys go. _I am the king now._ He wondered if Aegon would have attempted to honor such a request to spite him. Perhaps his brother’s flight was a blessing. White fur brushed against his side.

“Ghost,” Jon greeted. He ran his hand through his wolf’s spur. Drops of blood staining Ghost’s muzzle made the albino direwolf look all the fiercer. At three years old, Ghost was the size of a pony and growing still. Born the runt of his pack and now the largest by a sizable margin.

“I need to wash and then I will be ready to greet the realm.”

Jon took a breath once he was alone in his chambers. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. Only months prior he had been a prince with an uncertain future. Now he was King of the Seven Kingdoms. Seven Kingdoms that been struggling to pull back from the brink of war all his life. Grey eyes stared back at him, the only evidence of his Stark blood visible. His facial features and white-gold hair were all Targaryen. It was a rare color, even for those with the blood of Old Valyria. Daenerys had unearthed a book of portraits of past kings and their heirs. Save for his eyes, she called him the splitting image of Prince Aemon, son of Jaehaerys the Wise. _He never ascended to the throne._ Jon wondered if such a resemblance was an ill omen. King Jaehaerys was the greatest king their family had ever produced but Jon was sure even he would see the challenge in today’s political climate. _A wayward brother seduced by love or prophecy. Two entirely too ambitious uncles, united against me. Great lords who have tasted the blood of our house and hover like sharks at an approaching feeding frenzy._ Prince Aemon would have struggled living up to the legacy of his father. _I will struggle to remove the stains from our family’s legacy._

Jon ran a hand across his face and then with a deep breath straightened his spine. “You will be the king the realm needs,” he told his reflection. _What I would not do for a dragon… or three._


End file.
